Snakes and Penguins
by Midnight-Blues1
Summary: Put Snake in a some tails, in character, and see what happens. Written as a challenge to myself. It could stand as a one-shot. Takes place around MGS2, but AU to potentially bring in the other cast members to rip on each other.


**Snakes and Penguins**

**In MGS1, you can unlock a tuxedo for Snake to do some fancy sneaking during his mission. And well…he's still got it. Written as my own challenge to keep Snake in character, while in a situation he would most likely not involve himself with. Takes place around the time of MGS2, but AU to potentially bring in the other cast members to rip on each other.**

_____________________________________________________________________

Washington D.C., Maryland.

Ritz Carlton, 15th floor, 17:00

-----------------------------------

Snake fingered the folds of dark wool.

"I have no pockets, Otacon."

"_There's two in your jacket and two on your pants."_

"Doesn't count."

"_They are meant to be functional in a fashionable sense, Snake."_

"You mean useless."

"_Coming from the only man who actually takes fashion seriously…"_

At least he had been upgraded to a more dapperly set this time, if that meant anything. Snake straightened the front of his black tailcoat and proceeded to knot the bow tie in the mirror. Cross . Under. Over. Loop. Pull. Yet, as superficial as the ensemble seemed, he remained meticulous in his execution; call it military and disguise protocol. Cutting corners never paid off, but neither did unnecessary frivolous details. In 10 minutes, he had shaved, combed his hair, dressed, and locked in his cufflinks. Otacon was in the next hotel room, struggling with why one end of his bow tie was bigger than the other. Last month, they received a special invitation from Roy Campbell. One of the military executive boards was hosting an evening white-tie event to honor of those who participated in the recent campaigns. It was a small gesture to show veterans the gratitude they deserved, but the very acknowledgement was the most important. These were turbulent, war-torn times abroad, and terror-fearing ones on the home front. Otacon had coaxed Snake to go, if only to tap into the grapevine for anything of interest. It wasn't often Snake ventured into cosmopolitan territory. It was a scarcer occasion for him to find reason to don civilian attire. No operative felt comfortable in the midst of so many public eyes. Hence, Snake had taken the time to scope out the program of the entire event.

"_I wonder what kind of things they'll be serving. duck__ a l'orange? __ Lobster? The government's got a nice budget for these things."_

"Filiet mignon from Argentina, Alaskan salmon, fois gras, and tomato bisque."

…down to the menu items and the names of the valets on duty.

Otacon was also on the guest list, but would doubly serve as his backup and intel.

"_Though, I really don't think you need me on the codec like this. It's not the same when I am actually out in the open as well. "_ A small splash sounded in the background_. "Damn. I just dropped one of my studs in the toilet."_

"Welcome to the playing field." Snake adjusted his tie and took one more look in the mirror. Not a hair out of place. Turning his head to the side, he could not remember the last time he was this clean-shaven and pristine. Hm, maybe took a year or two off his age. He'd have to remember that for future reference. Snake arranged the toiletries back in their original order, and switched off the light. "I'm done, here. Are you ready?"

"_All clear."_

Ensuring that his room door clicked behind him, Snake slipped the key card into his inner jacket pocket. Otacon appeared immediately after, stopping momentarily to wipe his glasses with his handkerchief.

"Looking pretty sharp there, Otacon. "

"Thanks. Reminds me of my few non-otaku days…or when I got my drivers license." He replaced his glasses and let the world settle back into focus. "Speak for yourself, Snake. I can see your forehead."

"Very funny."

The plush hall carpeting muffled their footsteps down the hall. The hotel followed a 18th century theme of European décor. Everything was detailed with accents of gilt or extravagant relief molding. A row of large crystal chandeliers lined the painted fresco ceiling. When they reach the elevator, Otakon scanned the polished silver buttons on the inside panel before selecting the one second from the bottom. Reception was held in the atrium, _Le ResVeur_; the following dinner and activities were in the grand ballroom, _La Paloma_.

As the doors closed before them, the tune of classical music filled the small space. Otacon couldn't help fiddling with his crisp, wingtip collar. He never wore a tailcoat before; rarely even a tie. It made him slightly giddy. "Kind of makes you feel like Agent 007, doesn't it?"

"No."

"Don't tell me you don't watch movies either."

There was a pause. "I'm unarmed and my watch is not equipped with a miniature killing laser."

All the while, Snake kept his eyes focused on the digital floor marker. Otacon had been unable to secure rooms closer to ground, and he did not like having to rely on automated transport. If necessary, the vent on top would require about 10 minutes to remove. The stairs would have been preferable were he alone.

The elevator stopped and opened at the 10th floor. A middle-aged man in a white uniform pushed a large covered linen cart inside. "Sorry folks, don't mean to cramp your style for a moment." He pushed the button for 9th floor. "Speaking of the nines…you guys looking to be killing any ladies tonight?"

"eheh. Not sure about that. Well…" Otakon rubbed the back of his neck, trying to surpress his smile, and the imagery of himself as the suave secret spy. Snake just stared harder at the digital display, suddenly willing the elevator to come to a crash-stop on the 9th floor. This was not the way to start a conversation with him.

The doors opened again and the man pulled his cart out, giving them a winking smile as he did. "Good luck tonight!"

The elevator music resumed, and finally reopened to the main lobby. It was dotted with other tailcoat-clad gentlemen; some lounged over conversation on the sofas, others passed through the revolving doors from the valet outside. _Le ResVeur_ was north towards the center of the hotel. The sound of music reached their ears again. Stepping in tow with others, Snake and Otacon made their way to the desk outside the glass atrium doors.

A woman name Regina registered guest attendance. "Name, please?"

"Iroquois Pliskin."

"Hal Emmerson."

The woman clicked on her spreadsheet. "Thank you. Entrance to _La Paloma_ will open at 6:00 for dinner."

Snake cocked his head in the direction of the crowd within. "A fine turnout you've got. What's the headcount tonight?"

"475. The event next door wanted to book the _Lu Trademiento_ as well, but you guys got to it first."

"_Lu trademiento_."

"The bar."

Inside _Le ResVeur_, the ceiling was also a sculptured frame of steel and glass. The warm colors of evening were starting to come through, as seen with the gold and purple clouds overhead. Ladies, each with their own glass of wine, appeared in and out of the mass of black and white, swathed in their colorful evening's finest.

"Snake, this is what prom should have been like."

"You can tell me all about it." He surveyed the sea of heads and up-do's. "Ok, Until 18:00, let's make some rounds." He switched to codec. Going in.

_____________________________________________________________________

**Author's Note: As in most hotels and halls, the main areas are often named in reference to a theme. I made the ones here in reference to classical music.**

**I love key cards.**

**Written on a whim, so it it's cool, I'll continue.**


End file.
